


And So We Begin (A Pilot for a Two-Man, One-Angel Operation)

by NotALemon



Series: The Stanford Collection (Oh, Angel Face) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Re-Write of the First Episode But in My Own AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An Establishing Fic, Angel Gabriel (Supernatural), Angel/Demon Costumes, Angel/Human Relationships, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Gabriel and Sam Winchester in Love, It Follows the Same General Plot of the Pilot but Gabriel's There, M/M, Me Improving Supernatural Okay, Part of a Larger AU I've been Cooking Up For Ages, They love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: “No.” Sam wraps his arm around Gabriel's shoulders. Gabriel nestles himself against Sam's side, watching Dean closely. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of him."“Okay,” Dean says. He turns to look at them straight on, obviously not having expected this. “Um,” he begins. “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”“So he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He’ll stumble back sooner or later,” Sam says, though he knows that no one in the room believes that.Dean ducks his head, thinking of how to best phrase this so he doesn’t clue Gabriel in on anything he shouldn’t know. He looks back up, directly into Sam’s eyes. “Dad’s on a hunting trip. And… he hasn’t been home in a few days.”Sam breathes out his nose, face deadpan. Gabriel looks at Sam, not as confused as he is solemn and understanding.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: The Stanford Collection (Oh, Angel Face) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634104
Comments: 4
Kudos: 254





	And So We Begin (A Pilot for a Two-Man, One-Angel Operation)

Gabriel, blasting trashy pop music and getting his groove on, rounds a corner, dressed as a sexy angel in a low v-neck, trashy glittery wings, and off-center halo, and calls for his _Sammoose_. “You coming, yay or nay? ‘Cuz we were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago.”

Sam, decisively not in a costume of any kind, shakes his head. “You know how I feel about Halloween,” he says. 

“Well, if you’d rather get up to something else…” Gabriel walks up to Sam and rests his hands on his waist. “We could stay in, and maybe you could tempt this sexy angel to some sinning of the demonic variety. A little bit of lust never hurt no one, right?”

“What, _you_ would rather stay in instead of going out drinking on _Halloween_? Are you even _Gabriel_ , or have you contracted some kind of angelic virus?”

“So you’re saying you’ll go out tonight, or are you just teasing me?”

Sam sighs. “Fine,” he says. 

“Great! Now put on your costume.” 

Once Gabriel dragged Sam into the bar, Sam in tacky demon horns and nothing else even mildly festive and Gabriel wearing his equally-tacky angel costume.

“Everyone _else_ is in a costume,” Gabriel comments, teasingly.

“I’m in a costume,” Sam argues, smacking his hand. 

“Oh, here comes trouble,” Gabriel says, grinning at Jess the sexy nurse and Luis the ghoul as they approached the table. “The terrible-twos.”

“Don’t call them that,” Sam chastises, no bite behind it. He smacks Gabriel’s hand again. 

Jess sits down across from Sam. Luis sits next to her. “So, _someone_ came out to celebrate.”

“What are you celebrating?” Sam asks Gabriel innocently.

Gabriel rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Dunno, _Samantha_ ,” he says. “What _would_ we be celebrating?”

“ _Sam_ ,” Jess says, “and his awesome LSAT victory.”

Sam looks away bashfully. “All right, all right, it’s not that big a deal.” 

Gabriel nudges his shoulder. “C’mon, big guy.” He picks up his glass and thrusts it to the middle of the table. Jess and Luis clink theirs against his, looking at Sam expectantly. Sam shakes his head and adds his to the mix.

“Yeah, he acts all humble,” she says. “But he scored a one seventy-four.” She grins at Sam and Gabriel.

Gabriel leans his head on Sam’s shoulder. ‘Yeah, that's my Moose.” 

Luis and Sam drink their shots.

“Is that good?” Luis asks, as the shot burns down his throat. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and watches Sam and Gabriel expectantly. 

“Is finding a twenty on the sidewalk _good_? Is winning the lottery _good_? Is free cake _good_?” Gabriel asks.

Jess smacks Gabriel’s arm. “It’s scary good.” She drinks her shot.

“So there you go,” Luis says, beaming. “You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want!” 

Sam looks down at his hands. “Actually, I got an interview here. Monday.” He looks to Gabriel. “If it goes okay I think I got a shot at a full ride next year.” 

“Hey,” Jess says, reassuring as ever. “It’s gonna go great.”

“You know, if you weren’t bonking the angel over there, I’d swear you and Jess’d make a great couple,” Luis says. 

“Hopeful thinking,” Jess says.

Gabriel slings his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Are you jealous you don’t have a smoking hot moose to mack on anytime you wanna? ‘Cuz, I mean, I understand your pain there, ghoul friend. But _this_ moose is spoken for.”

Sam shakes his head, embarrassed. 

“So, more shots?” Luis asks, as ready to party as ever.

While Luis goes on his quest to acquire more shots, Gabriel leans over to whisper into Sam’s ear. “You’re gonna kill ‘em on Monday,” he says. “They’ve never seen someone like you, and they’ll be lucky to ever again. You're gonna get that full ride."

"That sounds like a threat," Sam says back, a smile on his face. "What would I do without you?"

"Oh, you'd crash and burn," Jess says, smirking at them. "Do you lovebirds want some shots or not?"

After Luis and Gabriel have had enough shots for their liking, the group starts walking home. Luis always makes jokes about him and Jess _walking these two defenseless young men home_. Gabriel loves encouraging his antics. 

“At least I wore a costume,” Luis says, more than a little drunk off his ass. “Man, if your sorry ass was trick-or-treating at my house, there would be _no_ popcorn balls for _you_.”

“You gave out popcorn balls?”

“You could have at least gone as a slutty version of something. Slutty Dorothy, slutty Alice, slutty nurse--”

Jess elbows Luis. “Hey.”

“I-- I didn’t mean you.” Luis stumbles a little. Jess has to grab onto his arm to support him. 

“You’d die without me,” Jess informs him, far more sober than Luis.

“Man, what can I say? I just never been a big fav of the whole thing.” Sam looks over to Gabriel.

“Never been a fan-- what, what, are you a Communist? Who doesn’t like Halloween?” Luis asks, sounding truly confounded.

“I have enough Halloween spirit for both of us,” Gabriel declares, glancing at Sam. There’s a skeleton in a hooded black cloak hanging from a fence that they pass. Luis and Jess drop them off at their apartment-- “Nice and safe!” Luis yells to them, leaning more on Jess than on his own feet-- and proceed on their way back to Jess’ apartment for Luis to drop her off to feel good about himself.

Gabriel loves going out drinking with Sam and their friends, but he also enjoys _private celebrations_ with Sam in their apartment. “Time to make this angel fall,” Gabriel says, straight faced, before bursting into laughter. It wasn’t the worst way Gabriel has seduced Sam, but it makes the top 20 list.

In their bed, Gabriel pressed up against him like a tiny space heater, Sam sleeps soundly with his hand resting on Gabriel's hip. Gabriel had once told him that the way they slept was called "jetpacking". Sam's still sure there's an innuendo tucked away in there.

Sam’s eyes snap open at the sound of something somewhere in the apartment-- a window opening, maybe?-- and he, being the one less likely to snap an intruder out of oblivion, leaves the bedroom. There’s some dude walking around their apartment. Damn, Gabriel must’ve not done as good of a job proofing this place as he thought he did. Or maybe it’s one of his _just desserts_ tests that he does. 

He lunges at the man, grabbing his shoulder. The man knocks Sam’s arm away . Now they’re fighting, ducking from blows, swinging each other around, and kicking. Sam gets elbowed in the face, Sam kicks him in the head, Sam gets pinned to the ground, a hand at his throat and the other pinning his wrist down.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” the grinning, gloating face of his brother says.

“Dean?” Sam asks. 

Dean laughs.

“You scared the crap outta me!” 

“That’s ‘cuz you’re outta practice,” Dean teases.

Sam shuffles them around until Dean’s on the floor.

“Or not,” Dean grunts. Sam taps him a couple times, just to show off. “Get off of me.”

Sam rolls onto his feet, pulling his brother up with him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.

“Well, I _was_ lookin’ for a beer,” Dean says. He puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders to shake them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam repeats, more serious this time.

Dean removes his hands from his brother’s shoulders. “Okay. Alright. We gotta talk,” he says, equally as serious.

“Uh, the phone?” Sam asks, sassy as ever. It’s late at night, and he’s just seen his brother for the first time since he left home. He’s allowed to be a little pissed off.

“If I’d’a called, would you have picked up?” Dean asks. Sam looks away, feeling guilty. He knows the answer is _no_ , no matter what the circumstances. As much as he’d missed Dean and their dad, he knew that going no-contact was for the best. 

The lights flick on. "What the hell's happening?" Gabriel stands in the doorway in Sam's shirt from earlier night, watching Sam wrestle with Dean with a mixture of mild amusement and annoyance.

"Gabe, hey." Sam rights himself and looks down at Dean briefly before giving Gabriel that sappy look Jess and Luis love to tease him about. “Um, Gabe, this’s Dean.”

“Oh, your _brother_ Dean?” Gabriel asks, looking at Dean and sizing him up.

Dean clears his throat. "Listen, we gotta talk about some things, so if you don't mind, you can tell your roommate-"

"Roommate?" Gabriel looks at Sam, definitely amused now, grinning smugly. Gabriel's always loved showing Sam off, no matter where they went and what they did.

Dean looks at Sam, then Gabriel, piecing everything together. "Oh. Oh. I didn't know you swung that way, Sammy."

Sam crosses his arms and glares at Dean, standing a little closer to Gabriel. This wasn't how he planned on coming out to Dean. Then again, he never really did plan on coming out to Dean ever, so that's worth mentioning. "There's a lot of things you don't know."

"Hey man." Dean holds up his hands in surrender. "It's cool. It's good. If that's how you swing, then I'm fine with it." He looks directly at Gabriel. "I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk ‘bout some private family business. But, uh… nice meeting you.” He still looks at Gabriel with curiosity.

“No.” Sam wraps his arm around Gabriel's shoulders. Gabriel nestles himself against Sam's side, watching Dean closely. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of him." 

“Okay,” Dean says. He turns to look at them straight on, obviously not having expected this. “Um,” he begins. “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“So he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He’ll stumble back sooner or later,” Sam says, though he knows that no one in the room believes that.

Dean ducks his head, thinking of how to best phrase this so he doesn’t clue Gabriel in on anything he shouldn’t know. He looks back up, directly into Sam’s eyes. “Dad’s on a hunting trip. And… he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam breathes out his nose, face deadpan. Gabriel looks at Sam, not as confused as he is solemn and understanding.

“So if you’ll just come outside with me, we can--”

“He knows,” Sam says. 

Dean blinks at Sam. “He _what_?”

“I know what your dad does for a living,” Gabriel says. “Though smiting witches and bitches doesn’t pay too hot, does it?”

“Why the _hell_ did you tell him?!” Dean hisses to Sam. “The _one_ thing we’re never supposed to do, and you--”

“Oh, I figured it out, soon enough. You think I’m stupid or something? I got all this, and brains, too.” Gabriel smirks at Dean. “So, your daddy’s gone off to hunt some sorta ghostie or ghoulie, got in over his head, and now you’re crawling back to Samwich over here ‘cuz you want help finding him. Did I get it all right?” Gabriel turns to Sam. 

“I gotta say, I don’t think I really, uh, _approve_ of this guy, Sammy,” Dean says. 

“It’s Sam,” Sam informs him. “And-- I mean, come on. You can’t just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.”

“You’re not hearing me, Sammy,” Dean says. “Dad’s missing. I need you to help me find him.”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil’s Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He’s always missing, and he’s always fine.”

“Not for this long,” Dean says, just as exasperated. “Now, are you gonna come with me or not?” He crosses his arms.

Gabriel’s eyes shine with understanding. 

“I’m not,” Sam says, firmly.

“Why not?” Dean asks.

“I swore I was done hunting. For good.”

Gabriel takes in a breath, though Sam knows he doesn’t need to. “Actually, Sammoose, I think you should go looking for your daddy.”

Sam looks at Gabriel, brow furrowed. “What? Gabe, you know how I grew up. I mean, when I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.”

“Well, what was he supposed to do?” Dean asks.

Sam gives Dean the disapproving look this time. “Uh, say ‘don’t be afraid of the dark’, maybe?” he says.

“Listen, I know you’re not the biggest fan of your daddy-- trust me, I understand the feeling-- but _my_ daddy’s been missing since… forever, basically. Made me an’ my brothers and everything, and vanished. Poof.” Gabriel rocks back on his heels, wanting nothing more than to conjure up a sucker or something else sweet, but knowing he’s under the watchful eye of Dean. He’s not in the mood to be stabbed _or_ shot right now. Hurts like a bitch. “And if any of my brothers cared as much about finding daddy as they did about fighting each other, I’d go with ‘em. ‘Cuz… well, it gets lonely out there on your own. And I miss ‘em. My family.” Gabriel clears his throat and tries for one of his signature Trickster smiles. “But hey, that’s just me. Daddy also didn’t drag me ‘cross the country killing things, either. Just abandoned us.”

Dean looks at Gabriel like he’s not sure if he should like him or not. That’s Gabriel. 

Sam shakes his head. “I can’t go back to that life.”

“You don’t gotta,” Gabriel says. “Just find your daddy, and come back by Monday, and we can go on with our lives. The weekend we all forget ‘bout. Fall break!”

“Dad’s in real trouble right now,” Dean says. “If he’s not dead already. I can feel it.” He looks at Sam, who’s gone silent. “I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes, you can,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to,” Dean corrects, looking at his brother expectantly.

Sam looks down to Gabriel, who’s got his pleading face on. “We’ll talk about _that_ later,” he tells Gabriel. Then he looks up at Dean. “What was he hunting?”

“Uh…” Dean looks up to the ceiling, remembering. “Some two-lane blacktop outside… Jericho? Somewhere in California. Found this guy’s car, but he vanished. Completely MIA.”

Sam crosses his arms. “So maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Yeah. Well, here’s another one in April. And December ‘oh-four, ‘oh-three, ‘ninety-eight… uh, ‘ninety-two-- ten of ‘em, over the past twenty years. All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road. Makes sense, right? Dad went to go dig around about three weeks ago. I hadn’t heard him since, which is bad enough.” Dean looks into Sam’s eyes. “And he left me a voicemail yesterday.” He takes out his phone and plays the voicemail, staticky and breaking up.

“Dean… something big is starting to happen,” John says, in the first time Sam’s heard his voice in four years. “I need to try and figure out what’s going on. It may…” it cut out. “Be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.”

Sam wouldn’t admit to the goosebumps peppering his arms. “There’s EVP on that.”

“Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Dean smiles at Sam, who shakes his head. “All right, so I slowed the message down on the recorder-- you know the one--, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this chick said ‘I can never go home’.” Dean holds out his hands in a _how about that_ sort of way. 

“Never go home,” Sam repeats. He looks at Gabriel. Gabriel stares straight forward, his face doing that thing it does when he thinks of home. “All right. I’ll go. I’ll help you find him.” Dean nods. “But I have to get back first thing Monday.”

“What’s first thing Monday?”

“I have this… I have an interview,” Sam explains. 

“What, a job interview? Skip it.”

“It’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate,” Sam explains, almost bitchy. 

“Law school?” Dean asks, smirking. Sam can almost detect a hint of pride, if he weren’t sure it was just him projecting onto his brother. 

“Just wait here,” Sam says, backtracking into the bedroom with Gabriel in his wake. He starts packing a duffel bag, packing only the essentials-- clothes, phone, wallet, charger, hook-shaped knives, you know the drill.

“If I had the chance to find my daddy…” Gabriel says.

“This’s different,” Sam says. “He probably just-- got lost, or something. Did something dumb and banged himself up. Nothing serious.”

“You never know,” Gabriel says. “Are you okay?” 

Sam laughs a little. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“If one of my brothers came knocking on my door in the middle of the night, I’d say yes. Well, depends on the brother, ‘cuz Uriel can kinda be an asshole, but…” Gabriel’s eyes go hazy as he thinks of his past. He shakes his head. “Anyway, you gotta be careful, okay?”

“When am I not?” Sam asks, still packing.

“Oh, I have a list, if you’d really like to hear it,” Gabriel says.

Sam shakes his head, smiling. “Asshole.”

“And you love me regardless. Lucky angel, huh?” Gabriel grins at Sam, coming in for a hug. “I would say ‘don’t do anything Jesus wouldn’t do’, but-- you know, actually, he’s one of my brothers who makes the _best_ decisions. So, yeah, don’t do anything J.C. and the boys wouldn’t do. So, flipping tables is okay, but adultery’s a big no-no.”

Sam pulls away from Gabriel’s bone-crushing hug. “I would never cheat on you.”

“It was mostly a joke, but you’re too damn sweet for your own good,” Gabriel says. He leans up for a quick kiss. “Stay safe. Don’t make an ass of me. I don’t want the entire supernatural community to think I’m an idiot just ‘cuz my boyfriend hurt himself trying to be macho against Casper.”

Sam shakes his head. “Yeah, okay,” he says.

-  
Dean stopped to fill up at one of those _charming_ small town gas stations Sam remembers fondly from his childhood. The Allman Brothers played on the radio while Sam shuffles through Dean’s box of tapes, door open. Dean comes up to the car, arms full of the gross convenience mart junk food he loves.

“Hey!” Dean calls. “You want breakfast?”

Sam looks at Dean’s arms, full of junk food, and grimaces. “No, thanks.” Then, still shuffling through the tapes, he asks: “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?”

“Yeah, well, hunting ain’t exactly a pro ball career.” Dean puts the nozzle back on the pump. “Besides, all we do is apply. It’s not our fault they send us the cards.”

“Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?” Sam swings his legs back inside the car and closes the door. He wants to take advantage of the nice weather while it still lasts, despite his jeans and hoodie. 

“Uh, Burt Aframian.” Dean slips into the driver’s seat and sets his chips and soda down next to him. “And his son Hector. Scored two cards outta the deal.” He closes the door behind him.

“That sounds about right.” Sam looks down at the dozen cassettes in the box in his lap, some with nice, fancy album art and others labeled in Dean or John’s handwriting, listing out songs and tape names. The boxes on the tapes (some of them didn’t even have boxes, just a tape with a name written on it) have cracks in them, missing corners, or are completely broken and exist only to hold the ink-covered index card that holds the information. “I swear, man, you’ve gotta update your cassette tape collection.”

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two-- Black Sabbath?” He holds up a tape. “Motorhead?” He holds up another. “Metallica?” He holds up the last tape that Dean snaps from him. “It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock.” Which Sam thought he’d never be forced to listen to again after he left. 

“Well, house rules, Sammy.” Dean takes the tape out of the scratched-up tape box and pops the tape into the player. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” He drops the tape case back into the box of tapes, explaining why the boxes were so beat up in the first place.

“You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old,” Sam says, as “Back in Black” starts playing. “It’s Sam, okay?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud.” Dean smirks to himself, driving off. 

They’ve driven for what feels like forever down Centennial Highway before they drive past a sign reading JERICHO 7.

“Thank you,” Sam says into his flip phone, before closing it. “All right,” he says. “So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that’s something, I guess.”

Dean glances at Sam, then back at the road. In front of them, at a bridge ahead of them, two police cars, lights flashing, and several officers stand in front of a car. “Check it out,” Dean says.

Sam leans forward, trying to get a better look.

Dean pulls over, both of them taking a long look at the scene before he turns off the engine, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a box of ID cards with his and John’s faces, FBI and DEA and other important government acronyms emblazoned across them. He picks one out and grins at a judgemental Sam. “Let’s go,” he says, getting out of the car.

-

Collecting information isn’t hard when you and your brother are trained in lying and getting information. _Federal Marshalls_. Sam falls into the rhythm too quickly for his own liking, despite being out of it for four months. Even lying to Amy is easy. _Uncle Dean and Sammy_. Sam’s disgusted with himself. 

But they got the information they needed. Other disappearances. No police theories. Murdered woman on Centennial. Library research of a murdered woman is fruitless.

Then--

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?”

\-- Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile 33 of Centennial Highway and drowned. Found her two young children dead in the bathtub. 1981. Sylvania Bridge, the bridge with the cops, with the car.

Investigating, getting attacked by Constance with the Impala, jumping off the bridge to escape. 

Then--

“You guys having a reunion or something?”

\-- they investigate John’s room, which is a huge fire hazard. Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong, and somebody Parks.

A note reading “Woman in White” next to a printout of the _Jericho Herald_ article about Constance’s suicide. John had figured it out. 

Then-- 

“Dude, five-oh, take off.”

\-- Dean gets arrested, Sam interviews Joseph Welch (who cheated), Dean escapes.

-

Sam’s driving the Impala when his phone rings. He answers it, the number unrecognized.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don’t know, that’s pretty illegal,” Dean’s voice says, a little warped from the phone booth.

“You’re welcome,” Sam says with a grin.

“Listen, we gotta talk,” Dean says.

“Tell me about it,” Sam says. “So the husband _was_ unfaithful. We _are_ dealing with a woman in white. And she’s buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad’s next stop.”

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean asks, irritably.

“I just can’t figure out why Dad hasn’t destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho,” Dean says.

“What?” Sam asks. “How do you know?”

“I’ve got his journal,” Dean says.

Sam shakes his head. “He doesn’t go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time,” Dean says. 

“What’s it say?” Sam asks, desperate to know.

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap,” Dean says, dismissively. “When he wants to let us know where he’s going.”

“Coordinates,’ Sam says. “Where to?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Dean says.

“I don’t understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?” Sam asks. He looks up from the wheel and slams the break, car squealing on the road and phone falling from his hand. His car goes right through Constance, though he was desperately trying not to. 

“Sam? Sam!” Dean calls from the phone, resting on the floorboard.

Sam breathes hard, shakily looking into the rearview mirror. Constance sits in the backseat. “Take me home,” she says.

Sam takes a minute to breathe, scared that, if he doesn’t, Constance will kill him, too. 

“Take me home,” Constance insists, angry now.

“No,” Sam, full of calmness responds. He grips the steering wheel, trying to avoid looking at the ghost woman in the backseat.

Constance glares at him. The doors lock. Sam, twinges of fear running down his spine, tries to reopen them, not noticing that the gas pedal is moving until the car starts driving itself, guided by Constance. Sam grabs the wheel, unable to control the car while the woman in white is driving them to her house, flickering with anger and concentration. 

She doesn’t relent until they stop outside of the rotting house on Breckenridge road, the Impala stopping. Sam, briefly and childishly, is glad that nothing happened to his brother’s car. Constance kills the engine, turns off the lights.

“Don’t do this,” Sam pleads.

Flickering in the back seat, Constance looks longingly at her old house. “I can never go home.”

It hits Sam, then and there. “You’re scared to go home,” he says, with a twinge of sympathy. He looks over his shoulder, only to see she’s not there. She sits shotgun instead, like Dean would if Sam were driving, bitching the whole time about _not hurting my damn car, Sammy_. Instead of bitching-- which Sam would prefer--, Constance climbs into his lap, pushing his back against his seat hard.

“Hold me,” Constance begs, sultry and seductive. “I’m so cold.”

Sam struggles against her. “You can’t kill me. I’m not-- not unfaithful. I’ve never been!”

He thinks of Gabriel, how he’d kissed him goodbye and told him _don’t make an ass of me_ , how he’d pour marshmallow vodka into his hot chocolate, how he’d snap up Sam’s favorite things whenever he was sad. Sam would _never_ cheat on Gabriel.

“You will be,” Constance promises, darkly. “Just hold me.” She leans in to kiss Sam, even as he struggles, but--

A bright, golden light shines from in front of them. “Stay away from my boyfriend, bitch,” Gabriel says. “I’m taking _you_ home.” With a snap of his fingers, the Impala drives itself into the side of the rotting house. Gunshots ring from behind them.

Dean rushes through the now-gaping hole in the side of the house. “What the hell was that?!”

Sam holds his head, staring at Gabriel, who’s still standing in front of the Impala, not radiating blinding light anymore. “That’s my boyfriend,” Sam breathes.

“Your _what_?” Dean asks. “He’s not-- Are you okay?”

Sam sits up. “I think,” he answers. "Help me?” He reaches out for Dean’s hand. Dean opens up the car door and drags him out. Sam still stares at Gabriel, awestruck.

Constance picks up a photograph and stares at her and her two children. The children she drowned.

“That bitch didn’t hurt you, did she?” Gabriel asks, running to him. He holds Sam’s face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know what the hell you are, but you need to get away from my brother,” Dean snarls to Gabriel, snatching Sam away. 

Constance throws the picture to the ground, a drawer skidding towards them. Gabriel snaps it out of existence. The lights start flickering. 

“Is that you?” Sam asks Gabriel.

“I’m not a fan of the whole _flickering lights_ thing. I'm more of a spotlight guy, myself. Love the theatrics.” Gabriel reaches out for Sam’s hand. 

“Hey man, don’t _touch_ my brother,” Dean commands.

“Guys,” Sam says, quiet. “There’s something happening-- over there.” Sam points at the staircase.

Water slides down it like a depressing, dribbling waterfall. Constance looks up it. There, at the very top, are the boy and the girl from the photograph, holding hands and speaking together, like something straight out of _The Shining_. 

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy,” they say, before disappearing and reappearing behind her. Sam clutches Gabriel’s hand. The children embrace their mother. Like a lightning striking a lightning rod, Constance lights up, flickering and screaming like nothing before, glitching in and out of existence before dissolving into a puddle of water.

“Holy shit,” Dean says, stepping away from Sam and Gabriel. “So this is where she drowned her kids.”

Sam nods. “That’s why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.” He looks to Gabriel. “So that’s why you took her home. You found her weak spot.” He smiles at Gabriel, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Anything to protect the best ass I’ve had in years,” Gabriel says. “And all _you_ thought, Mr. Hotshot, was to shoot Casper the Bitchy Ghost in the face! What’s that gonna do, genius?” Gabriel asks Dean. 

Dean turns the gun on Gabriel. “I don’t know what _you_ are, you freak of nature, but I know damn well I don’t trust you!”

“Dean!” Sam yells. “He saved my life!”

“He drove my damn car into a building, man!” Dean yells back.

“He _killed_ Constance! What do you think he was doing?!”

“Uh, tryin’ to kill you? I didn’t know you liked screwin’ the things we hunt, Sammy, otherwise I would’ve done somethin’ ‘bout it.” 

Gabriel grins at Dean. “Whoa now, you think me saving your brother constitutes killing me? I understand why every supernatural creature from coast to coast wants your blood. I mean, damn, if _that’s_ how you thank people, then I’d _hate_ to see what a ‘fuck you’ is.”

“Get away from him, Sammy,” Dean commands.

“Gabriel is my _boyfriend_ , Dean.”

“You know, I’m feeling awful threatened. I think I’m gonna go back home and wait for you guys there. ‘Kay?” Gabriel turns to give Sam a quick kiss. “Love you, Sammoose. Don’t have too much fun with Deannie before you get home.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Dean asks. 

Gabriel just shakes his head and disappears with the flapping of wings.

Dean looks at Sam, incredulous. “Okay, Sammy--”

“It’s Sam,” Sam corrects. 

“-- you gotta tell me what the hell’s happenin’, ‘cuz if you don’t, I’ll think you were screwin’ some sorta… I dunno. Demon, or something.”

Sam sighs. “Okay. Just-- get in the car, and we’ll talk about it on the way back. Okay?”

-|-

“I’m all ears, Sammy,” Dean says, testily, behind the wheel. Sam, sitting shotgun in his usual place, with John’s journal open in his lap and flashlight tucked under his chin, shining on the coordinates, tenses up. _Highway to Hell_ , the old classic, plays over the old speakers.

Sam sighs. “So, you wanna know about Gabriel,” he says.

“Uh, yeah, Sammy. I wanna know ‘bout the shady guy you’re screwin’, who showed up for no damn reason and almost killed you!” Dean slams a hand against the wheel. “What’s up with that? Last I checked, you didn’t like to screw what we _kill for a living_.”

“We don’t _kill_ things like Gabriel,” Sam says. 

“Gimme one good reason not to.”

“Because I love him, first of all.”

“Dude, now is so totally _not_ the time to declare your undying love for the man that just made my ‘to-kill’ list.” Dean shakes his head and turns down the music. “Seriously. You ‘love’ this guy, but-- did you know he could do that?”

“Yeah,” Sam admits. He looks down into the journal, at _DEAN 35-111_ , avoiding looking at his brother.

“You _knew_ what he was, and you _still_ decided to date the guy?” Dean spends more time glaring at Sam than he does looking at the road. “Sam, man, you can’t be _that_ desperate. Just find a fuckbuddy or somethin’ that’s, like, fully human.”

Sam switches off the flashlight and looks out the window into the deep, dark night passing them by. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d react like this.”

“What, be concerned ‘bout you? _Me_?”

“You sure weren’t when you didn’t call or visit me for four years.” Sam watches the trees pass. “And _now_ you’re all concerned about who I’m sleeping with? Just because he’s--”

“What? What is he?” Dean asks, irritable. “‘Cuz I’d sure like to know what he is before I torch his ass.”

“He’s an angel, okay?” Sam says, more exhausted than anything. What he wouldn’t give to sleep until his interview tomorrow. 

“An _angel_? What, you expect me to _believe_ that crap?” 

“Believe it or not, that’s what he is.” Sam tosses the flashlight between his hands in the darkness of the car. “I didn’t believe it when he first told me, neither, but that’s what he is.”

“We’ve never dealt with an angel before. I don’t even know if _dad_ had ever dealt with one, either. And _you’re_ tellin’ me that you started screwin’ someone who just so _happened_ to be an angel? Just randomly, one day?”

“Gabriel was my roommate, my first year, and we-- one day, I confronted him about it, and he admitted it to me. He’s hiding from his family. And… he loves me.”

Dean shakes his head. “I thought dad taught you better. I thought _I_ taught you better.”

“Dean, if Gabriel hadn’t stepped in and driven the car into her house, I would’ve died. And maybe you. He saved our skins back there, and you can’t just kill him because you don’t trust him. That’s ridiculous.” Sam sets the flashlight down in the crease of the journal. “I trust him. Isn’t that enough?”

“You also trust everyone’s tellin’ the truth all the time, Sammy. I mean, how can we know that he’s _really_ trustworthy?”

“You can’t have a little faith in my boyfriend? The one person who was there for me when you and dad weren’t?” Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Sam interrupts him. “No, Dean. I trust him. I love him. And you know what? I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust most people. Including _you_ , sometimes. So before you try killing him, why can’t you just give Gabriel a _chance_?”

Sam is more surprised that Dean's problem is Gabriel himself instead of the fact that Gabriel is a man. Then again, he's always had his suspicions about what exactly his brother gets up to with people, but Sam didn't want to push it when he was younger, and now… it isn't the best time to ask your brother about his sexuality.

Dean breathes in, evenly. “Okay, fine. But if he steps outta line, I’ll be the first one that gets to kill him before he kills us. Capiche?”

Sam sighs, knowing that striking this deal is the only thing that’ll get Dean off his back about Gabriel. “Okay. But if you do have to kill him… I’ll never forgive you.”

“Fine,” Dean says. “D’you wanna, like, shake on it? Spit on it? Make a blood pact?”

“I’ll take your word on it,” Sam says, uneasily.

“Cool.” Dean drums his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat, mouthing along to _Highway to Hell_. “So… what’s goin’ on with 35-111?”

“It’s called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.” 

Dean nods. “Sounds charmin’. How far?” 

“About six hundred miles.” Sam closes the journal. 

“Hey, if we shag ass, we could make it by morning,” Dean suggests. 

Sam looks at Dean out of the corner of his eyes. “Dean, I, um…”

Dean glances at the road, then at Sam, then the road again. “You’re not going,” he says. “You know, your boy toy could just make his ass appear in here and we wouldn’t have to go and get him.”

“The interview’s in, like, ten hours. I gotta be there.” Sam shakes his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Dean mumbles, disappointed, staring straight ahead at the road. “I’ll take you home. To him.”

-|-

Dean pulls up to Sam’s apartment, still frowning. Sam slides out, leaning in to look through the window at his brother. “Call me if you find him?” he asks.

Dean nods, refusing to look at Sam. 

“And… maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?” Sam asks, though he knows the real answer.

“Yeah, all right,” Dean responds, which means _no_ in Winchester. 

Sam pats the door and turns away, ready to walk into his apartment and see Gabriel again. Dean leans over, an arm over the seat. Sam?”

He turns around. 

“You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” It’s a plea, Sam knows: a plea for him to stay, for him not to go to his normal, apple-pie life. 

“Yeah,” Sam says, dismissively. He wants to cuddle up next to Gabriel in their bed and ignore everything that happened today, to do the interview tomorrow and ace it, to have the life he’s never had before with Gabriel. That life doesn’t necessarily exclude Dean, but it _does_ exclude hunting.

Sam closes the door behind him, sighing in relief. It’s nice to be home again. The apartment even smells like cookies, fresh-baked and delicious. “Gabe?” he asks, snatching up one of the cookies and nibbling on it. “You home?”

Gabriel bursts out of the bedroom. Sam drops his cookie. “We gotta get outta here. Right now.”

“What?” Sam furrows his brow. “But what about my interview?”

“Listen, Sam-scraper, you’ve seen a lot of crazy shit, but you’re not gonna _believe_ me if I tell you.”

“Whoa,” Sam says, voice even and calm. He bends down to Gabriel’s level and places his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Gabe, I promise that I’ll believe you, no matter what you say. You know what I used to do for a living. You _saw_ what happened in that house. So you can tell me--”

“Some yellow-eyed bastard just tried to smite me,” Gabriel says.

Sam freezes, eyes going wide. “ _You_? But why--”

“‘Cuz it knows I’m close to you. It knows that you love me, and it wants to--” Gabriel cuts himself off and shakes his head. “It was a demon.”

“A demon?” Sam grips Gabriel’s shoulders tighter. “Well, you’re an angel, right? So you can just--”

Gabriel lays his hands on the sides of Sam’s face. “Sam, this son of a bitch killed your mother.”

Sam stops breathing. “It-- It what?”

“This is what killed your mom, and then he tried to kill me. So whatever he is, he has _something_ against you. And he’s following you. So you need to find your daddy, because he might be next.”

“But-- our life, Gabriel,” Sam says, almost pleadingly. “We were supposed to go to law school, Gabe. We were supposed to-- to buy a house, and get a golden retriever, and live a normal life.”

Gabriel rubs his thumb along Sam’s cheekbone. “I know. It isn’t fair. But we can do that _after_ we hunt down yellow eyes, okay? Right now, though-- I don’t think this house is safe. I already fought the bastard once and cast him away, but now that he knows your boyfriend’s an angel… well, Sam, Stanford ain’t safe anymore.”

“You’re an angel,” Sam says, softly. “Can’t you do something to-- to stop it? To _kill_ it?”

“It’s… been a while,” Gabriel says, a twinge of embarrassment in his voice. “I haven’t exactly had to fight demons in… a long time. I haven’t even _seen_ a demon since a little after I left. They’re not exactly _keen_ to attack archangels.”

“But this one was? I don’t--”

“Get it? Yeah, me neither.” Gabriel leans up to press their foreheads together, a surprisingly tender display of affection for him. “It has something towards you. And I’m 100% _not okay_ with that, ‘cuz _I’m_ the only inhuman being that gets to claim your sweet ass.”

“How are we even going to get around? That weird teleporting thing you do?”

Gabriel lets go of Sam’s face. “Your brother’s waiting outside.” 

Sam sighs. “Of course he is.”

“I don’t think he trusts me.” Gabriel slides back into the bedroom. “Pack up, babe. We’re leaving.”

“You showed up in the middle of our hunt and killed a ghost. He doesn’t exactly think very highly of you, right now.” Sam follows Gabriel into their bedroom, decisively storm-tossed due to Gabriel’s uprooting of everything. He snaps, and everything disappears. “Where did everything--?”

“Pocket dimension. That’s what I like to call it.” Gabriel shrugs, so casual about his powers and the specific type of crazy it takes to believe in them. “So what does he say I am? Ghost? Demon? Some kind of-- monster?” 

Sam shakes his head and starts gathering up a duffle bag, speed-packing like all the times he had as a child. “I told him you were an angel.”

“Wish I’d been there to see _that_. Lemme guess, he didn’t--”

“Didn’t believe me,” Sam finishes.

“Mm. Yeah, I got that vibe from him. It’s probably gonna make a little more than just ‘surprise, guess who’s angelbait’ to make _him_ believe I’m not some sort of monster bent on drinking your blood.” Gabriel sits on the bed. “Guess I’ll just have to convince him of my Heavenly glory.” 

Sam snorts. “He isn’t exactly someone who believes in Heaven, let alone be convinced by its ‘glory’.” He looks down at large hands, holding a stack of cotton t-shirts. “This thing that tried to kill you-- it really _was_ the thing that killed my mom? You’re sure of it?” 

Gabriel looks up at him. “Sam…”

“I need to know,” Sam says, looking away from the stack of shirts he’s just put in his bag. “Gabe, this thing killed my mom when I was a baby, and now it tried to get you. _Why_ would it come back _now_?”

“Maybe I’m just special,” Gabriel teases. Then, looking at the serious expression on Sam’s face, he lets out a sigh. “I don’t know why. I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t.”

Sam shakes his head and continues packing his bag, jeans and shirts and hoodies and socks, everything he needed perfectly folded and arranged to take up the least amount of space possible. Then it’s his wallet, his chunky laptop, chargers, phone-- everything he can while still “packing light”. _The essentials_. 

“You’re a professional.”

“It’s a skill. Picked it up from my childhood.” Sam zips up the duffle and slings it over his shoulder. “You ready?”

Gabriel snaps again, the room emptying itself in a second. “We’re erased from the lease, too, so don’t worry about getting in legal trouble over this.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Oh, Sammoose, you’d be surprised.” Gabriel gives him a quick grin, then takes Sam’s hand and leads him through the apartment that had once been their home, now stripped of any evidence of their existence. It looked ready to sell. 

Dean’s parked right outside of the apartment, lights off and Metallica playing on the tape deck. He turns the lights on and rolls down the window when they come through the door.

“What the hell are you doing with my brother?!” Dean yells through the open window.

“Dean,” Sam says, quietly. “Dean, we--”

“No, I’m talkin’ to your piece’a shit boyfriend. You didn’t expect me to believe he’s an actual _angel_ , right?” Dean’s eyes flash with fear. “You’re not in cahoots with him, are you? Makin’ some sorta deal with the devil?”

“He’s not like that, Dean,” Sam says. He opens the back door and throws his bag in. “He was attacked, okay? And he’s an angel.”

“What, and _that’s_ why he’s got some sorta unnatural ghostly-powers shit? Forgive me, but I’m not buyin’ that crap, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.” Sam jumps in the passenger’s seat and looks over his shoulder, watching Gabriel slide into the backseat next to their bags. “And I promise I’ll tell you everything after we leave.”

“Well, tough luck, ‘cuz I’m not leavin’ here til I get some goddamn _answers_.” Dean crosses his arms and glares at his brother and his brother’s ridiculous boyfriend. “Spill, Sam. What the hell’ve you been gettin’ up to?”

Sam looks into Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel sighs and conjures up a sucker. “Okay. You got me. I’m an archangel.”

“You think I’m gonna believe this bullshit? First Sam, and now you? Now, I’ll let Sam get away with stupid shit, ‘cuz he’s my brother, but not you.” Dean asks. “C’mon, man. There’s no way in hell you believe this guy, right?” Dean asks Sam.

“Dean, I’ve lived with him for four years,” Sam says. “I know him. And I know that _this_ isn’t a joke.”

“You want me to believe you’re datin’ the archangel Gabriel? Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”

“Well, hello, Your Majesty, because you’ll never guess what I am.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and shuts off the Impala. “Boom. Angel.”

“What the hell?!”

“Listen, Dean, Gabriel-- he’s here to help us. And I trust him.”

Dean squints at Sam, restarting the car. “I can’t believe you, man. You’re datin’ some dude who claims he’s an archangel? I mean, that’s pretty damn crazy. I thought runnin’ off to college was your rebellious phase, but you-- you’re tryin’ to win the crazy Olympics.”

“Crazy doesn’t even begin to cut it, Dean-O. And your taste in music’s shit.” Gabriel snaps again, the classic rock switching to some pop tune Gabriel likes and Dean abhors. “Nothin’ like a little Fergie to lighten the mood, huh?”

“If he’s gonna travel with us, then he’s gotta respect the damn rules,” Dean says, reaching over to sort through his tape collection. He pulls out one and slides it into the tape deck, the sounds of classic rock at home once more in the speakers.

“I don’t control him.” Sam leans back with a smirk. “Gabriel’s his own person.”

Gabriel scoots to the end of the booth seat, leaning forward to kiss Sam. Sam allows him.

Dean groans. “Really, man? Sucking face in _my_ car?”

“Maybe, Dean, you can suck face with _your_ boyfriend in the car, if you ever get one,” Sam says, almost gloating. Why wouldn’t he want to show off the Archangel Gabriel, his boyfriend, to the world?

“Man, can’t he just stay at home or somethin’? We don’t _gotta_ take him with us.”

Sam sighs. “That’s the thing. Dad’s still missing, and…”

“And?” Dean asks.

“And something tried killing Gabriel.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t know I was gonna be on a _list_ when I thought ‘bout killin’ him.”

Sam takes in a breath, looking out the window. “No, Dean. It’s not like that.”

“Then damn, what’s it _like_? You’re killin’ me with the anticipation.”

“It was a demon,” Gabriel pipes up from the back, voice serious.

“Of course it was.” Dean lets his hands settle on the steering wheel. “So, anythin’ else I gotta know? Anythin’ else from crazytown, or is the visit over? ‘Cuz I don’t think I’ve had enough crazy tonight.” He turns up the volume on the radio. “Do you two have a secret love child or somethin’? Or maybe there’s, like, a couple ghosts livin’ in your apartment, or a black dog that, uh, likes to prowl the neighborhood at night.”

“The thing that tried killing Gabriel? It was the thing that killed mom,” Sam says.

Dean stops breathing. “You’re tellin’ me this bastard’s back and killin’ people? After, what, twenty-somethin’ years? _Why_?”

Sam looks to Gabriel in the backseat. Gabriel lays his hand on the back of Sam’s seat, Sam resting his over it. “We think…”

“We think it has a thing for ol’ Samscraper here.” Gabriel crunches down on the pink sphere of his sucker, breaking it in half. “Yellow-eyes has something against your family. And I think he won’t stop til he gets whatever he wants from him. No matter who he has to kill.”

Dean looks at Gabriel through the rearview and shakes his head. “He might be a pain in my ass, but damn, Sammy, you know how to find the smart ones.”

“If I wasn’t rawing your brother, I’d take you on the date of your life, Dean-O. But since Sammy here’s the real 2-for-1, and the best person I’ve dated maybe-ever, I think I picked the right brother.”

Dean fakes a gag. “I take back what I said,” he says to Sam. “An’ I _really_ don’t wanna hear ‘bout what you and my brother get up to. It’s bad enough I gotta be in this car with the two’a you bein’ all lovey-dovey touchy-feely and whatnot, but I’m not listenin’ to you talk ‘bout deflowerin’ my brother.” Dean glares at Gabriel through the rearview. 

Gabriel winks at him. “Well, I like it loud, do you better start getting used to it.”

Dean puts the car into drive and turns up the music. “So, we gotta start huntin’ down whatever killed mom?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “But first… first we need to find dad.”

“35-111,” Dean says. He drives away from the apartment.

“We got work to do, don’t we?” Gabriel asks with a shit-eating grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Spat this out while binge-watching the first season of _Supernatural_. It's part of a large AU I will write one day, when I finally get it on paper.


End file.
